


you who never arrived (in my arms)

by tavrincallas



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 03:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17500781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tavrincallas/pseuds/tavrincallas
Summary: Adam is a dimension traveller, and in every universe, he finds Jordan.





	you who never arrived (in my arms)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授权翻译】而你从未来到（我的怀里）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18008636) by [Elena159](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elena159/pseuds/Elena159)
  * Translation into Русский available: [Тому, кого не встречу (кого мне не обнять)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18123023) by [maylinaddams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maylinaddams/pseuds/maylinaddams)



 

 

 

 

> _"You who never arrived_  
>  _in my arms, Beloved, who were lost_  
>  _from the start,_  
>  _I don't even know what songs_  
>  _would please you. I have given up trying_  
>  _to recognize you in the surging wave of_  
>  _the next moment. All the immense_  
>  _images in me -- the far-off, deeply-felt_  
>  _landscape, cities, towers, and bridges, and_  
>  _unsuspected turns in the path,_  
>  _and those powerful lands that were once_  
>  _pulsing with the life of the gods--_  
>  _all rise within me to mean_  
>  _you, who forever elude me."_

 

* * *

 

Adam opens his eyes, and he is twenty-eight again. Hendo is standing in front of him, staring worriedly as if Adam has done something wrong, like he's missed a chance at scoring a goal or miscued a pass. But Adam hasn’t played in ages and has little care for repercussions if he misses a shot. This Hendo is different than the one he knows, the one he is familiar with. Neither has Adam set foot in this version of this building, let alone this room. Adam looks around, taking in the view. One side of the room are covered with full length mirrors, and a wall with the Liverpool crest and slogan, _“You’ll Never Walk Alone”_ and _“We are Liverpool”_. Adam scrunches his nose, smelling floor detergent and faint sweat, and as of this moment, Hendo's cologne.

It's one of the many, many gyms in Melwood.

An empty space, save for the many cold and metallic gym equipment, Hendo and Adam, and their tired reflections.

Hendo is wearing a bright red Liverpool polo shirt today, an orange snapback over his sweaty, ungelled hair. He looks drained, murderous. Dark circles around his eyes, his usual smile vacant from his lips.

"How are you?" Adam asks. The question comes off as awkward; jarring against the low hum of the floor heating. The clock on the wall tells him that it's 6 o'clock, ticking, ticking, ticking, a steady beat against his fluttering heart. Adam draws a sharp breath. Judging from the darkness outside, Adam thinks that it's early morning, it's way too early for this, and Hendo probably hasn't slept well in days.

"You know how I am, Adam. Has the last 24 hours fried your brain too?" There is a certain sharpness in Hendo's voice, it shrills like resentment down Adam's spine.

 Hendo's phone wouldn't stop pinging. Floods of messages through his social media accounts, endless questions about the truth. A wry laughter is his only response, before he lifts up a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Hendo pretends to yawn. Trying to hide his true feelings, pretending that he's okay. It's a front that Hendo has gotten better at, but has never really mastered. "Milly’s downstairs to talk to Klopp if you need to speak to them," Hendo says with conviction, but his eyes are still closed. Adam stays still, caught in time and space, trapped within Hendo's atmosphere. When Hendo opens his eyes, Adam thinks he could see tears.

 _Oh,_ Adam thinks. He's gone back too far in time, in a different kind of universe. It's the one where Ingsy has just decided to leave the club, abruptly and without warning.* And Hendo is carrying the burden of not knowing why, what he's done wrong, if he could have stopped it from happening.

Now Hendo is trying not to break. Trying hard to keep that smile on his face, but all Adam sees now is an ugly grimace. Adam moves to take Hendo's phone off his hand, briefly taking note of the reams of messages on the LED screen. Question after question after question.

None of them are reassuring.

_Is it true? Is Ings leaving Liverpool?_

"I know how hard it must be for you," Adam whispers. "Out of all of us, you were the closest to him." The shadow of pain flickers across Hendo's face. The clench of his jaw, the grit of his teeth. That flash of anger that he tries so hard to control, because he's meant to be the captain.

"He could have said something to me. Selfish fucking prick," Hendo says thickly, like the words wouldn't form properly in his mouth, caught in his throat. He grabs the nearest empty water bottle and squashes it with his fist, before throwing it against the wall. It rolls away limply underneath one of the benches, its short course eventually halted by Hendo's frayed rucksack.

"He did what he had to do, Hendo. We don't own him. He makes his own choices."

"Are you on his side now?" Hendo asks, his inflection rising in a fever pitch. "Are you going to leave us too? Leave me?"

Hendo is angry. He's wired and tired and conflicted -- by his feelings, by Ingsy's apparent betrayal. In the years to come, Hendo would learn to understand Ingsy's decision, even if they weren't allowed to talk about it in public. In a different universe. Adam hasn't seen Hendo all worked up, not like this in a long time, not since --

Adam tries to repress those memories from what seemed like forever ago. The words _"I wasn't the one who left"_ hovered on the tip of his tongue, but Adam bites them off, swallows them despite the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth. It's not fair for Hendo.

This Hendo doesn't know. How could he?

"I won't leave you," Adam says, before a sudden wave of emotion washes over him, tumultuous in its course. Adam couldn't breathe. He needs to get out of here, out of this building he shouldn't have set foot in the first place, breaking the laws of time and space. He needs to get away from Hendo, away from it all, so he runs, and runs, and runs--

 

* * *

 

Some days Adam wakes up in other universes less similar to the one he came from. The one where Adam never became a footballer, a midfielder, a sports model. Safe in the anonymity of everyday life, trawling along the humdrum of ordinariness.

In some universes Adam finds himself lurking in the darkness, watching himself on the billboards on the streets, on TV, on adverts; of sporting brands and cosmetic products. He sees himself once, from afar, standing side by side with Hendo as they are filming something on the streets of Liverpool for LFC TV. In those universes, Adam would avoid being seen, or hides himself in the rush hour crowds of the city for the fear of getting recognized.

In other pockets of time and space, Adam learns he is a pastry chef. A psychiatric nurse. A geriatrician. But in most of them, Adam senses a recurrent theme. Hendo will always be there, in one way or another. Despite the circumstances. There is one universe where Hendo is the one who doesn't chase the limelight, the fame. He's a police inspector, a fireman. There is a universe where Adam marries Emily, and Hendo was his best man. Another universe where Hendo and Adam are both sportsmen, but Hendo’s a footballer and Adam is a cricketer. There is one where Adam was friends with Hendo, but drifted apart due to different life and career paths - and they never speak to each other again. Adam has never showed himself to Hendo, not in those lifetimes. He doesn't want to make the mistake of meeting Hendo's eyes again, not like last time.

Those were the choices, the roads they could but had not taken. The infinite probabilities at the flip of a coin or the turn of a dice. Words unsaid. Things undone.

 

* * *

 

The next time Adam wakes up, he's thirty-five, and he's in the middle of the Melwood training ground-- _again._ There is a huge contrast between the bright red roofs and clear blue skies. Adam immediately hunts for an exit path, as Hendo could be nearby. He passes by unnoticed by the schoolchildren and crowds who were touring the place, cameras around their necks as they pause to gaze in awe at the facilities, and the players training on the pitch. He breathes a lungful of fresh, crisp autumn air, but only hears the footsteps too little too late.

"Hullo!"

It startles Adam, because he doesn't expect to be recognized, let alone greeted like this. He turns around and finds Hendo, grinning from ear to ear like someone's stuffed a hanger in his mouth. Milly raises a cutting eyebrow from behind Hendo, before waving at Adam as if Milly knows him too. A film crew is by the sidelines, the hustle and bustle of assistants fixing Mo and Bobby’s training kits, the boom mics, the cameras.  They must be filming some sort of advert or special show for LFC TV, Adam thinks. Hendo seems as surprised to see Adam there, but he stares at Adam in wonderment instead of repulsion.

"I thought you were going home, visiting your parents? Did you miss me that much to stalk me at work?"

Adam's blood curdles, stomach pulled up to his chest. He doesn't know how to explain this, he hasn't planned for this. People are watching them now, pointing at Hendo and Adam, making cooing noises and pointing their smartphone cameras at Adam and Hendo's faces. Suddenly, Adam doesn't feel so safe anymore. This is one of the universes where Hendo is still the Liverpool captain and Adam's left the club after a string of injuries.

He pulls at the sleeve of Hendo's shirt. "Are you free?" he asks, voice small and unsure. Hendo nods. "My shooting part's done for the day, anyway," he tells Adam.

"Come with me," Adam says, leading Hendo to a more deserted area within the complex, away from film crews and tourists. Free from wandering eyes and ears. Hendo signals the filming assistants to allow them some privacy. The small mercies of fame and the reputation of being scary, Adam thinks.

And then, without hesitation, Adam says, "I'm not who you think I am."

 

* * *

 

Hendo merely raises an eyebrow. It annoys Adam, the way his nonchalance chooses to present itself at this moment. He's expected an over-exaggerated surprised reaction, at least. "Is this some Halloween prank?" Hendo asks, a lazy smirk curling on the edges of his sly lips.

Adam looks past Hendo's head and stares at the autumnal trees, the red and brown and yellowing leaves, falling gingerly to kiss the earth. It must be around that time of year, Adam muses. "It's not a prank. Have you heard of parallel universes?"

 

* * *

 

This time, Hendo does look at Adam as if he's grown another head, or a third eye, or a fifth limb. "Have you been watching too many sci-fi movies, Adz?"

"I haven't," Adam says, resigned. "I have read enough string theories to understand parallel universes, though. And they do exist. I've travelled from my universe to this one. And so many others like it."

"You're serious," Hendo gasps, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Are you going to get a psych evaluation on me now, Hendo? Or do you need one for yourself?" Adam asks, with a dash of resentment.

This Hendo, though. He's weighing Adam's words carefully in his mind, and in this silence Adam could still hears the cogs moving, thinking. "If I call you-- him, the other Adam-- now," Hendo begins, but doesn't dare to complete the question, knowing its implication.

"If he's in Bournemouth, that's where he'll be."

Hendo hits the speed dial button on his phone, pressing the screen close to his ear. "Jords?" a familiar voice asks after the third ring. Adam fixes his gaze on the zipper of Hendo's puffy jacket, despite the burn of Hendo's stare down his neck. "Just checking where you are," Hendo says down the phone.

"I'm at my mum's," the other Adam replies. "Anything wrong?"

"No, just-- send my regards to your family, is all."

"You could have texted me to say that, you silly oaf."

"Yeah," Hendo hums. "Well, I gotta go," he says stiffly, adjusting his collar. A pause, then: "Take care, Adam."

"Take care too. You're still in the middle of training aren't you? Don't work too hard." There is a certain kind of fondness in the other Adam's inflection, even when it sounds like he's chiding Hendo. There is a smile on Hendo's lips, even as he hangs up. Adam stares up at him now, expecting Hendo to do backflips and scream in disbelief. There comes none.

This Hendo is sharper, and more serious, he thinks, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. He's still Hendo. That twinkle of mischief in his eyes confirms it. "So, do you believe me?"

"I don't know."

"What else can I do to make you believe me?"

"If you are who you say you are, then tell me-- how is this universe different from yours?"

Adam drags a slow, deep breath, aware now of a group of stray seven year-olds who are venturing towards them, away from their larger school trip group. He lowers his voice. "There's not much difference between your universe and mine, Some things are still the same, but some are inherently different."

"Different how?"

"You and I, we know each other in most of them. We're close," Adam reminisces, walking a fine line between fond and fractured memories. "But you could be a footballer in this life and a police officer in the next. A social worker, a surgeon. And what a damn fine surgeon you were."

"And how about you?" Hendo asks. "You've always been my friend in this universe. We've known each other since we were five."

Adam exhales and kicks a pebble mindlessly. The kids have gone, after their teacher called them away. "You met me when you were twenty-four, when I moved to Liverpool from Southampton. In some universes, we would have met at fifteen, at an England Under 21 call-up."

"Do _you_ play football too?"

"Not anymore," Adam confesses, his cheeks burning from the sun and Hendo's relentless gaze. Out of habit he fiddles with the metal on his finger, and the tiny movement doesn't pass unnoticed.

"You're married," Hendo points out.

 _That's the Hendo I know,_ Adam thinks. _Always so attentive._

"Yes," Adam nods. There is no point denying the truth.

"She's a lucky woman," Hendo smiles. "Do I know her?"

"You do," Adam replies, swallowing heavily. " _But he's dead_."

Hendo's soft utterance of a 'Sorry' doesn't even cut through the sudden tolling bells in Adam's head, or sooth the sudden searing pain in Adam's heart. He doesn't know, Adam tells himself, Hendo doesn't know.

He's dead, Adam hears himself say again and again, not just to Hendo but as a reminder to himself.

_Hendo's dead._

 

* * *

 

"I'm sorry, I really am," Hendo echoes himself, as if finding solace from the phrase. He looks forlorn, downcast. Like a kicked puppy.

"Don’t be."

"You must have loved him," Hendo comments in kind.

"With all my heart."

"It’s not Emily, then, if it’s a bloke?"

Adam lifts his head swiftly, sending Hendo a stern, hard look. He is too tired to argue, he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Hendo, clueless as always. It's a wonder how he often ranks himself on top of every list, but not the one that matters. Adam knows he's given too much away, that he needs to stop.

He needs to run.

Leave.

But the sun is too bright and Hendo is watching him too intently, and Adam thinks that he is more radiant than a thousand stars combined, more beautiful than the infinite constellations in the skies, that he has to look away.

Before Adam could make sense of his incoherent thoughts, Hendo's warm hand on his drooped, sagging shoulder snaps him out of his reverie. Adam forces himself to face Hendo again, and discovers the slow, dawning realization forming on Hendo's usually inexpressive countenance.

As if to say, “ _It was me, wasn’t it?”_

Adam shuts his eyes and wishes he could disappear, but he remains where he stands, fixed in this time and place. In front of this universe's version of Jordan Henderson, who is so similar and yet so different from Adam's version of Jordan Henderson. 

This time, it is Hendo who says, "Come with me."

 

* * *

 

It's easy to fool Klopp that something urgent's come up and Hendo has to leave training for the day. It's easier still to convince them that Adam is Hendo's Adam, instead of Adam the dimension traveller. Same difference, Adam thinks, apart from the sad wrinkles around his eyes and the downturned mouth that has never been fully reversed since losing Hendo.

 _My_ Hendo.

"Where are we going?" Adam asks, although deep down he knows the answer.

"Home," Hendo simply replies.

 

* * *

 

It is different to the one Adam remembers. It is in a similar neighbourhood like Knutsford, but this Hendo lives alone instead of with his family, or with Adam. A framed photo hangs on the wall of the both of them, Hendo and Adam. Adam glances away, as if in guilt of a sin he has yet to commit.

As soon as Hendo closes the door behind them, both of them remain stubbornly silent. There are no words for this. Hendo's eyes say everything, the things he couldn't have said to the other Adam. How he felt when he found out that they were-- are-- could have been--

It's a dissonance.

Adam could only gasp when Hendo's lips crash onto his, and he clings to Hendo like a lifeline, like this is the last breath he'll ever take, the last time he'll ever hold Hendo this way. Hendo is everything familiar and absolute, the final puzzle piece that completes him. It must be why Adam continues to search for him, even when he's gone. To latch on those memories, to find a happy ending.

He kisses Hendo in return, desperate, an earnest plea. Adam nips at Hendo's sharp jaw and doesn't mind getting hurt, if it means that he's able to breathe, touch, taste Hendo like this again. Hendo's cold fingertips tremble over Adam's hot skin, unsure, but only because this is the first time that he's doing this with Adam. He's being too careful, as if afraid to break Adam, as if Adam will be torn into a million pieces, or burn into ashes, or disappear between the cracks of time and space.

" _Jordan,_ " Adam whispers, "It's okay," he reassures him. It's all it takes before something lights up in Hendo, before he moves like a feral animal, hungry for his prey. He devours Adam like a starved prisoner, tasting freedom for the first time.

It's been too long, and Adam misses this. He misses him too goddamned much. "Jordan," he says, over and over as they move together, chasing the heights of pleasure -- but God, there is so much pain, so much agony as he gazes up at the face of the man he loves, knowing that this will have to end.

This isn't fair for him or Hendo, or _his_ Hendo or the _other_ Adam. No matter what fate this universe has in store for them. Adam in this timeline, in this universe, is an anomaly, and he's done enough damage just by existing here.

"Adam," Hendo groans against his temple, as Adam tears him apart and makes him whole again. There is only the white noise in his ears when they come, almost in synchrony, the hot rush of ecstasy. Adam shakes, violent and rhythmless, but Hendo holds him and keeps him together, in the safe cocoon of his arms, his winged angel. It is only when he feels the wetness on his cheeks, against Hendo's chest that he realizes how hard he is sobbing, his repressed emotions erupting from the deep caverns of his heart-- denial, anger, desire, joy, sadness, grief, love.

 

* * *

 

Hendo brushes the tendrils of Adam's hair across his forehead, presses a soft kiss at the corner of his eyes. Waiting for Adam to disappear, waiting for this feverish daydream to end.

"I don't do one night stands," Hendo suddenly says, like a petulant child.

"I know," Adam mumbles lazily, and rubs his face against the sheets, breathing in Hendo's scent on the pillows, the sheets, his skin.

"You know so much about me."

"I know about your terrible, unstoppable need to play football _all_ the time, when you were young. I know about your penchant for showing off your mad skills when you were nine, even when your parents sent you to go get groceries."

"You could have just Googled those information, they'd come up online," Hendo protests lightly.

"Including what happened at the grocery store when you were nine?" Adam asks with a mischievous smile.

"You knew that because you were there when it happened," Hendo insists.

Adam shakes his head, before linking their fingers together, pressing a kiss on the back of Hendo's hand. "I wasn't, Hendo. I knew because you told me, when I was twenty-six."

 

* * *

 

That's what this is. A dissonance.

"Don't leave," Hendo pleads.

"I have to," Adam says thickly. He doesn't want to say it, but he has to. For their sake, Adam has to be the stronger one, this time.

Hendo is beautiful like this -- his long, lean, muscled body all revealed in its glory, for Adam's eyes to see. The blanket covering his waist downwards gives some semblance of modesty, but all Adam feels is pride and honour to have loved someone like Hendo.

"I'm sorry," Hendo stutters. "I'm sorry, Adam."

"Stop saying sorry," Adam says, leaning into the space between them, pressing their foreheads together. "Please," Adam whispers. It's not Hendo's fault. It was never Hendo's fault.

He could feel the warm morning sun on his skin, Hendo's breath on his lips. Another soft kiss, turning into two, then three, then Adam loses count. He wishes he could stay here, in this moment forever. But this universe doesn't belong to him, and there is no place for him here. Adam has to be brave and strong, as his Hendo once has been.

"Stay."

"I can't." 

"Can't I come with you?"

"Hendo," Adam manages to say, before he feels the familiar pull, the buzz in his head and he knows it is time. "He loves you," Adam tells Hendo, rushing his words in the time he has left. "He doesn't know how to say or show it, but he does. I should know, because he's me. Because--," Adam pauses, because the pain is unbearable. He's sinking, drowning, suffocating. A thousand blades piercing through his viscera, disintegrating him from the inside. "Tell him you love him--," Adam says, "--before it's too late."

And that's when Hendo disappears from his sight.

 

* * *

 

Adam's back at the starting point. Again and again, as it always has been, for the multiverse to be put right as it should be. All that's left is a memory from a life long-lived.

"I love you," he says, into the void.

And that, Adam thinks, that would be enough.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

> _"You, Beloved, who are all_  
>  _the gardens I have ever gazed at,_  
>  _longing. An open window_  
>  _in a country house-- , and you almost_  
>  _stepped out, pensive, to meet me._  
>  _Streets that I chanced upon,--_  
>  _you had just walked down them and vanished._  
>  _And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors_  
>  _were still dizzy with your presence and,_  
>  _startled, gave back my too-sudden image._  
>  _Who knows? Perhaps the same_  
>  _bird echoed through both of us_  
>  _yesterday, separate, in the evening..."_
> 
> \- Rainer Maria Rilke, _You Who Never Arrived_
> 
>  
> 
> * * *

 

_end_

 

**Author's Note:**

> *In a parallel universe, Ingsy's loan deal/transfer was not as smooth as the one we had in ours, and it caused a huge scandal. Hence Hendo's heartbreak. 
> 
> I'm sorry.


End file.
